Don't Freak Out
by thecomfortableliar
Summary: So I had an idea, I have no clue as to whether I'll go with it or not, but anyway, Chuck AU. Myka Bering accidentally downloads the government's most secret secrets, and Agent Wells is sent to contain the situation. Let me know what you think, I knocked this up super quick but it could spin out into a full thing, who the hell knows. (If so, then eventual Bering & Wells)
1. Chapter 1: Harmless

**A/N – okay, so in the few hours between putting this up, and me going to bed, I've had some reviews. Firstly, thanks for reading, second thanks for the feedback – I needed a few opinions, so taa!**

**MonseFoster1 – yes, giving it more thought, Pete completely fits the Morgan-esque silly excitable best friend. (But I wouldn't want him so 'sidelined' in the first part of the story – so I would change a few things.)**

**Likewise, Lux – I can see exactly what you mean – Pete doesn't fit Casey at all – the reason I went with it is because I'd like to see development from Pete as a Casey character (possibly dealing with alcoholism, still not over his father's death, and disliking Myka at first) into the awesome guy we know. Secondly – don't worry, if this goes ahead then Myka will not be a dorky, helpless Chuck – she'll be as badass and capable as always.**

**10/04 –Final time, I hope, that I'll be editing this. Pete is the new Morgan, Artie is the new Casey. Does that work? I'm hoping to flesh out Pete's backstory though – I want his character to go somewhere… **

**As always, reviews are treasured. Chapter 2 coming soon.**

_Did she know she was doing it? That thing with her jaw. Probably not. _The woman she was watching just looked bored, almost painfully so, as she twirled the phone cord around her index finger. Helena doubted that she was purposefully clenching her jaw in such an exquisite manner such as to distract her unseen observer.

_I wish she'd stop. _Helena sighed. It was hard to analyse her behaviour, assess the threat, when said threat had a habit of making her mind wander to more pleasant places.

_Stop it Helena. You've got a job to do and a mark to evaluate. _

Her mark was Myka Bering, fresh out of university and working at Bering & Sons bookstore over the summer whilst applying for various jobs and internships. She was smart, incredibly so, according to the file. An eidetic memory. Competent in a multitude of languages, including Latin, much to Helena's delight. Regional fencing champion, bookworm, and history major. And the agency had reason to believe that this was the person who had been sent, and had consequently downloaded _all_ of the government's secrets, inadvertently or not.

With such an interesting skill set, it wasn't hard to see why the CIA had wanted this situation contained. They did not know the threat that Miss Bering presented. They did not know her allegiances, if she had any. She was a wildcard that Helena had been sent to deal with, quickly and with as little disruption as possible. But nobody had warned her of the curly hair, or small wry smile the woman possessed that were causing a slight but noticeable flutter in Helena's nerves, and not for the usual life-threatening dangerous reasons.

Helena was jolted out of her train of thought by the sound of her phone ringing.

"Yes," she said, holding the phone to her ear, still watching her target.

"Update," came the voice at the other end.

"No change,"

"I need you to make a move." Although the tone was neutral, Helena had no doubt that this was an order. "Wells? Do you copy? I need confirmation that this is the asset we are looking for, and I needed it yesterday."

"Sir, are you sure about this? She appears, well for lack of a better word, harmless." _Harmless, among other intriguing things. _Helena thought to herself.

There was a pause, then. "I've had the trace rechecked, this is where the evidence leads. You have your orders, I need you to access Miss Bering's hard drive, retrieve the data and wipe the laptop. If you encounter trouble, then deal with her silently. We cannot afford to have this information in the wrong hands."

"But sir,"

"No excuses, Wells. I do not care how harmless Miss Bering appears, we have reason to believe she possesses the most sensitive information the government holds, and I need this dealt with." Helena heard a light sigh. "I know you are personally invested in this case, but I assure you this is the best way. The NSA will handle this if you do not, I hear Agent Nielsen is in the mix, and you know he will have far less regard for this girl's life than you do. I trust you understand, Agent Wells, you really are Miss Bering's best, and safest option."

Helena took a deep breath. She could suddenly taste blood in her mouth. She pulled her hand into a tight fist and counted to three.

"Wells?"

"I understand, give me 24 hours." Helena replied, keeping her voice steady.

"No more," came the answer, "I cannot protect either of you if Nielsen gets there first."

"Copy that," Helena said, shutting off the call. She turned her attention back to the bookstore. Myka Bering had turned around and was scribbling notes down onto a clipboard, phone propped between her right shoulder and ear.

"Right then," Helena muttered to herself. She leant over and checked herself in the mirror, dragging a pale hand through her dark hair. She frowned at her reflection.

S_imple. _She thought. _This is simple job. In and out, work your charms. Then you can put this whole thing behind you. _

Taking one last glance at Myka's file on the seat next to her, she looked at the picture paper clipped to the top. Large, innocent green eyes stared back at her. _Innocent. _Huffing in annoyance at her own mind, she pushed those thoughts to the back of her head, composed herself and climbed out of her car.

_It'll be a piece of cake. _She thought, turning towards the store.


	2. Chapter 2: Meet Cute

**A/N: Alright then, so I've decided to go with Pete as Morgan (thank you for the reviews addressing this matter). The first chapter has been edited, and hopefully having Artie as Casey will work out (but still, open to all criticism). I'm sorting out the other characters, it's proving more challenging than I originally anticipated, but I've got a few ideas. But anyway, here's the Bering & Wells meet cute (I am kind of annoyed at Pete for being there, but I needed it), I love both WH13 and Chuck so I hope I do them justice. **

"Mykes," Pete Lattimer stage whispered across the store. He was bored. It had been a slow day, and he was getting hungry. "Mykes!" He tried again. No answer, the woman was caught up on the phone, and was intent on ignoring him, it seemed.

Spotting a stray rubber band, he pulled it tight against his thumb, took aim, and let it loose. The band flung across the shop and whipped its intended target on the shoulder. Myka turned with a scowl and look of irritation on her face.

"What?" She hissed. She'd been on the phone to this book dealer for a good half hour and over that time her patience had worn thin. To make matters worse, her head was throbbing with a headache that had struck last night, and refused to let up despite the painkillers she had been popping all day.

Pete saw the flare in Myka's eyes and realised his mistake in angering his best friend.

"Oh, uh. Nothing important. Do you want me to get you a hot drink?" He improvised, keeping back his question about when exactly his shift would end. Now was not the time.

Myka's eyes softened slightly. "That would be great, thanks." She said, turning back to her notes.

Pete wandered to the back of the store, and pushed the door to the staff room open. Whilst he waited for the kettle to boil, he stretched out his arms. He wasn't a fan of book stores. They were too stuffy, and horribly quiet, but Myka had convinced her father to give him a job over the summer as the shop expanded its range and needed somebody to stock the shelves and run general maintenance. He was grateful for the money really, not liking to put any strain on his mum. He tried to stay as self-sufficient as he could when he came back for the holidays. But he wasn't going to lie, the future scared the hell out of him. Here he was, stocking shelves with no idea what to do when the summer ended. Fixing a tea for Myka, and grabbing a cookie for himself, Pete made his way back through the store, his mind momentarily distracted with more serious matters than when he'd be getting off work.

There were only a few customers in, browsing or sitting in the old armchairs with a book. He looked up at the main office, on the second floor. He could see the back of Warren Bering, hunched over some paperwork. _Not so different from his daughter. _He thought as he reached the main desk and set the steaming mug down near Myka, getting a nod of thanks for his troubles.

"So, whatcha doing anyway?" He asked, leaning over to look at the clipboard she had in front of her, cookie crumbs spilling onto the paper.

"Negotiating a deal." Myka said, brushing her friends mess onto the floor. "A beautiful old edition of The Merchant of Venice. This guy's being a pain though, he's put me on hold again."

"The Merchant of Venice, huh? I saw that film," Pete sensed an opportunity and leapt up straight, ignoring Myka's protests that it was a play, and the film did not do it justice. Holding his arms out in a stately manner he tried to act out a scene.

"Mercy is strained!" He declared in the most righteous voice he could muster. "Portia, right?" He asked, proud that he could remember the name of the character.

"Pete, that was appalling," Myka couldn't help but smile. "Not to mention the fact that you quoted it wrong, it's actually 'the quality of mercy is _not_ strain'd'," and then Myka was off, giving Pete the literature lesson he didn't ask for, _never_ asked for, in fact.

Myka was _still_ talking about how the character Portia was beautiful but more importantly was intelligent and wise, out-witting many of her male counterparts, when the front door of the shop swung open.

"Holy smokes, that's one hot Portia right there," he whispered.

The lady in question appeared very much out of place in this quirky bookstore in Colorado. She looked more like she belonged on the set of a movie, or at least, that's what Pete thought. She was confident looking, stunning, and well dress, and she was headed straight towards them.

Myka didn't notice, she was absentmindedly filling in a form for the transaction. "Holy smokes?" She repeated, not doing very well at keeping the exasperation out of her voice. "Pete, you did not just reduce one of the best female characters from Shakespearian literature to her 'holy smoking' appearance?" Myka continued ranting mostly to herself, and was halfway through quoting her favourite line when she realised there was somebody else standing in front of her. Her head shot up and she dropped the phone that was still lodged between her head and shoulders.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," the woman said. Her voice was low, smooth and unmistakably British.

"Oh, no. Not at all," Myka recovered. "That was, I mean, I was quoting…"

"It is twice blessed: it blesseth him that gives and him that takes," Helena interjected.

Myka tilted her head sideways in surprise, eyeing up the woman opposite her. "You can quote Portia's speech?" She asked.

"Of course, darling. I dare say it's of my favourite Shakespearian passages." Helena replied, a smile forming on her lips. It was easy, almost too easy, to talk to Myka.

The two of them then proceeded to stare at each other, oblivious to the uncomfortable silence Pete was experiencing. Myka found herself caught up in this woman's eyes. They were framed by an almost regal brow, which perfectly suited her pale, flawless skin, shoulder length dark hair and seductive gaze. The woman was beautiful.

"Um hi," Pete interrupted, leaning in closer to the newcomer. "I'm Pete, and this is Myka." He gestured between them, giving the woman his most charming smile. But the woman's focus didn't stray from Myka, nor Myka's from her.

"Myka, that's unusual name." The woman said. _Unusual, but incredibly fitting._

"You like that," Pete spoke up again, "You should hear her middle name."

"Pete!" Myka snapped out of her trance.

Pete had started laughing at his own joke, but stopped abruptly when Myka threw a punch at his shoulder. "Ouch, alright, alright," he said, putting his hands up in mock surrender. "My parents were boring and normal, but scholar freaks found her in a dumpster and raised her as one of their own."

Myka glared at him with a look he knew all too well. He was in for it later.

Myka turned to the woman before her, trying to control the blush that was creeping up her neck. "Ignore him, please. How can I help you...?"

"Emily," Helena filled in.

"Emily," Myka repeated, enjoying the way it rolled off her tongue.

"Yes, I am looking for this book." Helena slid a piece of paper across the counter in between them.

Myka didn't say anything as she pulled the note closer to her, feeling a slight tingle where hers and Emily's hands brushed against each other. She read the elegant handwritten script and couldn't help it when the corners of her mouth turned upward into a small smile.

"I think we have this in stock. I'll just check on the database." She said, moving over to the computer on her left.

"Something amusing about my request?" Helena asked.

Myka looked up for a second, blushing at the thought of her face being so easy to read. "No, actually I'm surprised." She said, fingers tapping on the keyboard. "We don't get many people looking for Star-Begotten, it's not one of H.G. Wells' more known works."

"But you know of it?" It wasn't so much of a question as it was a statement.

"Yes,"

Helena smirked, Pete rolled his eyes.

"Wells is one of my favourite authors," Myka shrugged, not seeing the smile on Helena's face widen even further.

"Alright, Star-Begotten is in isle 42, in the Classics section." Myka pointed towards the back of the store. "Do you need any help finding it?" She held her breath, waiting for the answer.

"I'd love your company, if you wouldn't mind." Helena leant forward as she replied. She was fully aware that she was intruding in Myka Bering's personal space.

Myka took a short breath. The intoxicating woman's perfume washed over her. Without a second thought she was about to answer with an enthusiastic 'Of course I don't mind!' when the shop door was pushed open and the sound of running footsteps caught her attention. Cursing inwardly at being perturbed, she turned towards the source of the sound. A young girl, blonde hair pulled into a pony tail, came running through the store, closely followed by a man, presumably the father.

"You have to help us," rushed the man, looking at Pete with a desperate expression.

"Hey, don't look at me. I'm just the muscle here," he chuckled. "This here is the lady in charge," he motioned at Myka.

"What's the problem, sir?" Myka asked.

"Her mum's going to kill me," the man replied, only half joking.

"Okay, just tell me what I can do to help," Myka said, her green eyes wide and sincere, having an instant calming effect on the people before her.

"We bought lots of work books for Lily's final assessment at school, but when we got home it turned out we have the complete wrong set. Do you stock them here? I don't know what syllabus the school uses, and this is our last chance to get them before we go away, Jenny will be furious if I can't find the right ones before our holiday, and I told her I had it covered,"

"Alright," Myka interrupted gently, looking at Helena for a brief moment before her eyes flicked back to Lily's worried face, then to her father's. "It's no trouble," she said. "We can fix this. Pete? I need you to go in the back room and look up the syllabus for, um,"

"Moorehall," the father said.

"On it," Pete smiled, winking at the girl as he rushed off.

"Okay then, if you two would just come with me, I'll show you the section you need." Myka said, turning back to Helena who was watching the interaction with a strange expression on her face. "I'm so sorry, I'll be a moment,"

Helena just nodded, eyes lingering on the young girl who eagerly followed Myka as they weaved away through the store.

Myka was all smiles as she quickly and efficiently dealt with the father and daughter crisis on her hands. She had Pete look up the books she needed, then walked from shelf to shelf to find the right ones.

"There, that should be all you need," she said, eventually gathering all the volumes.

"Thank you so much," the man breathed in relief. "I owe you my life!" He laughed.

"It's no problem at all," Myka replied, eager to get back to the desk. Back to the mysterious British woman whose eyes she could not get out of her mind. "If you could just follow my college, Pete, he'll ring these up for you and you can get on your way."

Myka could hear Pete chattering away to Lily about her summer holiday as she walked round the store, back to her desk.

Helena looked up, seeing Myka returning, a smile instinctively tugging at her lips.

"Myka!" Myka winced as she recognised the voice calling her name. She reluctantly turned around to see her dad descending the old wooden staircase from his upstairs office.

"Hey, dad." She said, her voice unnatural and false. "Sorry about that, I'll be back on the front desk in a moment, we just had a customer emergency, that's all."

"That's not what I wanted to talk about, Myka." Warren Bering frowned. "The book deal? Have you secured that copy of The Merchant of Venice?"

_Shit. _Myka had forgotten she had been on hold with the antiques dealer. "I'm just getting back to that now," she said. It wasn't a complete lie.

"Well don't lose this one, Myka. We need to have the best stock if we are to remain competitive."

"I know, dad." Myka tried not to allow her annoyance to leak in her voice.

"Good, well. I'll be heading home soon for the day. I expect an update on that transaction tomorrow morning, understood?"

"Yes." Myka replied through her teeth, as Warren nodded and disappeared towards the back of the store. She knew he did not mean to be so patronising, but that didn't stop the anger boiling beneath her skin.

Eventually calming her nerves, she turned back to her desk. She was surprised and disappointed to find only Pete leaning against the counter, with no sign of Emily.

"Dude, she left you her number!" Pete was waving the note that had originally had her book order scrawled across it.

Myka crossed the store quickly. "Give me that." She snatched the paper from his hands.

"She totally had the hots for you, I knew it! I swear she didn't even _look_ at me, and we all know that's unusual," Pete exclaimed. "'Oh yes, one of my favourites, darling'," he mocked, flicking his imaginary hair.

Myka considered the fact that she had lost count of how many times she had hit Pete today as she loosed another fist at his shoulder, not looking up from the new note she was reading. _Call me _was written in Emily's looping, inked handwriting.

"Yikes," Pete flinched backwards.

"She did _not_ have the hots for me," Myka glowered, placing emphasis on each word.

"Sure," Pete smirked. "And H.G. Wells didn't write The Time Machine."

This time he was quicker than her, dancing away from her violent outburst, laughing to himself as he went.


End file.
